


See-Through

by raikaya (rqyh)



Series: Seasons: The Four Briwoon AUs [4]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Down Character(s), Angst, Dowoon is... well youll be able to deduce what he is, Drama, Exes, Fluff and Humor, For the most part, Ghosts, How Do I Tag, Light Angst, M/M, Moving to the Countryside, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), REALLY slow burn let me tell you now, Set in winter, Slow Burn, UGH i cant tag this one either without spoilers haskdjaldj, Well - Freeform, Younghyun is a photographer, also big emphasis on Drama let me tell you now too, ghost au, is it really aged-down...?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqyh/pseuds/raikaya
Summary: Younghyun is a photographer who moves to the countryside from the city after living there for seven years. He finds the village to be beautiful, the residents a wonder to be around with, and above all, his new home everything he's ever needed. It would seem as if things were absolutely perfect, and if it were up to him, he'd live there at that house forever.But what he doesn't know is that in that house, there's something else afoot.And more importantly, someone else.





	See-Through

**Author's Note:**

> **Result of the poll: first place!**

At some points in our lives, we do things that make us regret. It could be something minor, like forgetting your earphones back at home, or something a lot bigger, like breaking it off with someone important. We’ve all done things we wish we never did, and for others the pain can be a lot harder to deal with. It might even seem as if there would be no way to get over it, and that no matter what you do, there’s just no room for change.

             But that is what people forget a lot, I suppose. People forget that nature _is_ change. That its intricacies and constituents and the events that revolve around it are based on the very notion that nothing stays the same. A person born will someday eventually die. The sun isn’t always up in the sky. Air when condensed become clouds of rain. And ants living in a certain country might find themselves on a plane.

             It isn’t easy to accept that one day all of this might change for the better. And the fact that it’s already so difficult makes you feel like it can’t get any worse. But we have to remind ourselves that while our cases may be unique, they are not all that different from those around us—that those stories of people picking themselves up and finding new beginnings are backed up by facts and experience and real-life events embedded into history. That if it happened to them, then it can happen to us, even when they aren’t us at all. 

             That is what Younghyun tells himself, anyway, as he boards a bus meant to ride for two hours. It’s what he reminds himself as he keeps the side of his forehead resting on the glass window, watching the unfamiliar sceneries pass by before him. Gray roads gradually gradienting into a sugar-dusted brown. Grasses lining where a sidewalk should be. Tall-standing towers transforming into low-standing trees. Wherever he looks, he expects to see a crowd of people or another, but so far the bees have stayed hibernating in their hives. There are no digital screens or billboards depicting a Hyundai ad, or an idol promoting a perfume brand, just painted signs leading you to where you want to be. And where there used to be cars, there are now tractors, and wheelbarrows, and farm machines that look like they won’t be used for another three months.

             Seeing all of this sends a weird kind of feeling in Younghyun’s stomach, something short of a heart attack and diarrhea. Seeing so many things that he’s never seen before and knowing— _realizing_ —that all of this will be part of his life now, a life that he’d never once known before.

             But despite it he finds a small sliver of hope swell up inside of him, making him pull his jacket over him as tight as he can. Despite it he finds a small figure of a smile pull up his face.

             He’s going to love it here. That he is sure of, more than anything in the world.

 

“Well, that’s the last of it,” the man says, placing a cardboard box onto one of the tables, near the kitchen. “You packed surprisingly light for a guy from the city—most people I know who move from Seoul pack as if they think we survive off locusts or something.”

             Younghyun scratches his neck, shoulders slumped and feeling sheepish. “Well, I didn't really need much, since the house is already furnished,” he says with a small smile. “And, uh... sorry for making you carry all of that stuff. You really didn’t have to.”

             The moment Younghyun got off the bus and set foot in the village he was moving into, he was bombarded by a plethora of villagers coming over to ask who he was and what he was doing there and why did he move and what did he have in his boxes. 

             Younghyun had been so overwhelmed by the amount of people and questions being thrown at him—almost to the point of getting reminded of why he left in the first place—that he ended up answering none of them, only mustering up frantic glances and panicked squeaks and a prayer sent to anyone who was up there to save him from his misery.

             But then someone suddenly walked up to him with about the meanest look in mankind and the most foreboding aura, and the crowd instantly appeased themselves, letting him walk through like Moses through water.

             It was a tall, muscle-ridden young man, with hair cropped short and a sharp jawline lined with light bristles of hair. He stood just around the same height as Younghyun, and looked around the same age as him, too, though he might have been a few years older. He looked like the kind of person who valued hard work and labor and seemed to be held in high regard by the people in the village, if their actions were any indication.

             “You’re the newcomer? Yoon house?” the man asked in a gruff manner, and the people around started murmuring, looking as if they were still surprised at Younghyun’s arrival.

             Younghyun just nodded in response, as if someone had spelled him silent.

             “You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks. Give me your luggage; I'll take you there.”

             Younghyun had protested at first, feeling as if he owed this man already too much from the get-go, but (1) he was stronger than him and actually took all of Younghyun’s bags and boxes without a thread of difficulty, (2) he actually _did_ need a guide to guide his way to the new house he was moving in, (3) seeing as he might have been a person of authority, it was probably better to just obey him, lest he get himself in trouble, and (4) they were already at the house by the time Younghyun decided to stop protesting.

             So, really there was no getting out of it.

             “Please,” the man says with a scoff, back in the present. “You would’ve tripped over yourself if you tried to go here on your own. You city folks are always so delicate.” The man shakes his head. “Most don’t even last a month. You should’ve moved here when it was still autumn; the winters here make it real hard to leave.”

             He turns to Younghyun like he expects him to be like those city people, like he expects Younghyun to be packing his bags as soon as ten minutes later.

             But Younghyun brings himself up and straightens his back and says, “You don’t have to worry about that.”

             The man raises his eyebrow, as if to say, “Oh? I don’t?” Younghyun brings himself up further.

             “I know it isn’t easy living in the countryside, and I came here knowing that fully. But I _want_ to live here, and I _want_ to live _here_ , of all places I could’ve chosen.

             “This is the place I want to be. For the rest of my life.”

             The man looks him over for a moment, as if assessing if he actually meant what he said. Then, a scoff leaves his lips and he turns away.

             “‘For the rest of my life’, huh… We'll just have to see about that.”

             The man goes over to the entrance door and slips his feet into his shoes, bending down to tie his laces.

             “Rent needs to be paid every end of the month,” he informs him, “and there’s a village meeting every week. If you have any concerns, you can go to any of the neighbors, and if you’re _somehow_ still here even after a month, maybe I could offer you a job at my farm.”

             “I’m a photographer.”

             “And I’m Super Junior. See you in a week.”

             The man finishes tying his shoelaces and stands up to reach for the doorknob, to open it.

             Then stops, just short.  

             He turns around, turns around to look at Younghyun in the face.

             “By the way,” he says, “take care of this house.”

             “I promise I will,” Younghyun says with a slight bow. “I’m not about to destroy the place I’m gonna live in—”

             “ _No_ ,” the man interrupts, voice filled with an icy flare. “I mean take _care_ of this house. Don’t put a single scratch on the walls, don’t even _think_ of repainting anything. Take _care_. Of this _house_.”

             Younghyun blinks for a moment, feeling a bit taken aback. He was already made aware of the agreement that he was to not alter a single thing about the house, except to install external things like a computer or a wi-fi router. If it was something that didn’t need attachment to the walls, or involved drilling and stuff like that, then he could add it. He moved here knowing that fully well.

             But this man is acting like he didn’t know that Younghyun already knew about it. Or as if it really was that important to warrant serious reminder. Younghyun leans more towards the latter, considering all that he’s obtained about this man from just their conversation before.

             “... Is there a particular reason why?” he eventually asks, hoping it was the right question.

             Younghyun spots the split-second hesitation.

             “No reason,” the man says, pulling a casual shrug. “Just that this house is really important to the villagers. We don’t usually let newcomers move in to this one.”

             And with that, the man goes on his way, closing the door with a soft _thud_. He didn’t even say a “goodbye“ or another “see you next week“. Maybe he thought he didn’t need to say it again.

             Younghyun furrows his eyebrows a bit at the man’s odd end-behavior. For what reason would he put such emphasis to the maintenance of a single house? Also, how could a _house_ be so important to a bunch of villagers? Wouldn’t the person _living_ there be more important? 

             Younghyun just shakes his head and dismisses it as a province man thing. Maybe he could ask him about it in later days, if they happen to pass by. Or maybe at that village meeting he mentioned. _Come to think of it, I didn't catch his name..._

             After locking the door, Younghyun turns around and looks at everything in front of him, a picture painted perfectly in the frame of his vision.

            Despite it being from a rural area, the design of the house isn't as outdated as most people would assume it to be—just on the technology side of things and probably on its simplicity: a palette of calming, cool colors, white and green; light slowly seeping in through the swish of the curtains and the windows that hide behind them; the togetherness of the tiny kitchen, the tiny dining room, and the tiny living room; the lack of a TV, or a gaming console, or an electric stove, or a rice cooker, even; and the fact that the only rooms the main space lead to are a single, barren bedroom and a storage room..

            The entire house gives you a homely feel, a cozy feel, something tiny and precious that you would want to fit into your palm and protect. Something you find yourself feeling a fondness for despite the glamour and shine of all the other things around you. It's the closest thing to nature that Younghyun's ever been, and he absolutely loves that.

             Younghyun feels a surge of warmth spread over his heart as he looks over all this, like he had on the bus ride to the village. A new place. A new home. A new start.

             “Hello, new home,” he greets, feeling a smile spread across his face. Feeling silly, but liking it. “My name is Kang Younghyun. 26 years old, raised in Toronto, but moved to Korea seven years ago. Before a resident of Seoul, now a resident of you. Please take care of me.”

             He takes a ninety-degree bow and stays, for a second and more.

             Then he lifts himself up to be greeted by nothing but a house.

             Younghyun chuckles a bit to himself, shaking his head a bit as he goes over to get his luggage. Of course, no one was going to greet him—he was talking to a house for god's sake. But it was nice to have that formal greeting, to officiate things and make a mark to his new life. And it was nice to do something without the eyes of anyone but a house, with no one looking at you.

             Alright, I should probably start with this bag he packed for me, Younghyun thinks to himself as he picks up a blue string bag heavier than the cardboard boxes. He takes a step forward, thinking,  _Wonder what's making this so heavy—_

             The first day of school.

             Clinging to his mother's legs.

             A puppy he's never seen before.

             “AGH!”

             Younghyun yelps, reeling back and dropping the bag with a _thud!_ in shock. He feels his nerves send earthquakes across his body, his lungs start needing more oxygen—

             Relax, Younghyun. Relax. Focus on what's real. You're here. You're here.

             Eventually, his heart beat starts slowing down, and his fingers stop shaking. He takes a deep breath, and gives a sigh, feeling himself calm down. Thank god.

             What was that? Younghyun thinks, placing a hand on his head and assessing what just happened. The moment he took one single step onto the floor, he was suddenly _bombarded_ with these images—no, these _memories_ from his childhood that Younghyun hadn't thought of in a long time.

             It was like the memories were forced onto him, playing in front of him under projector light. It wasn't like he suddenly remembered them or anything, but like someone recorded them through his eyes and turned a TV on for him to watch it. And it happened so quickly, too. Just a _click!_ of an instant. Then it was gone.

             Younghyun wrinkles his forehead, still with that hand on it. Was that another one of his symptoms? But he was never told of anything like this. It came after he greeted the house…

             He just shakes his head, thinking it as nothing. Maybe he was just hallucinating because he hadn't eaten a single thing on the bus ride here. Two hours of no food is like a week of fasting to him, so maybe that's what it was.

             Yeah, definitely.

             He moves over to pick the blue bag off the floor, not bothering to check if the contents got broken or anything because who cares lol, and moves on over to one of the two doors, willing it to lead to his bedroom.

             Winter is really cold this year, he thinks with a shudder, reaching for the doorknob. _Wonder if I could buy a heater._

             He opens the door and enters the room, closing it with a loud _thud._

 

As mentioned before, Younghyun is a photographer, and a freelancer at that.

             His desire to take pictures started with his father, who himself had been a photographer as well. As a kid, he was always watching him take photos with that now-outdated camera, doing all these weird poses and getting into funny-looking positions just to get the shots and angles right. It had mostly been a source of  amusement for Younghyun, who didn’t understand why his dad was putting so much effort for something he could see well enough himself with just his pair of eyes. But the moment his father gifted him a camera for his birthday, Younghyun fell in love with photography, finding the profession to be the one where he belongs.

             There’s just something about capturing moments in a four-sided piece that Younghyun loves, the feeling of being able to take a piece of your surroundings with you wherever you go. You can preserve the history of a now-fallen tower, reminisce about a split-second memory that completely went over your head, convey messages and meaning through artistic, symbolic pieces, and just have a little bubble of joy swell your heart the moment you hit the shutter.

             Younghyun has just about fallen in love with photography—which is why he’s been pursuing the profession since even high school. And though the pace is slow, in recent years he’s been achieving a lot of things, by which he isn’t short of grateful.

             By setting himself up on a social media platform, he was able to form a small fanbase of photography-lovers to which he posted a few of his works to basically just hold some grounding in the online community. It wasn’t really much at first, since he just started; he mostly posted pictures of whatever he saw that day, and usually paired it up with a bit of microblogging, courtesy of another social networking site.

             But the day he posted a picture of _himself_ under the shade of the cherry blossom tree (because why not, and also aesthetic) (also, it was the first time he showed his face online _ever_ ) was the day he experienced a sudden rise in following, turning his initial four followers into a thousand, thirty-six. 

             (In hindsight, it's probably not favorable to have the additional one thousand and thirty-two followers only follow you because they find your face aesthetically-pleasing when a picture of cat family is _right there_ , but Younghyun was grateful for the exposure nonetheless.)

             He started getting commissioned by a few small companies and businesses, and even some personalities, to take pictures of scenery or certain subjects that they needed for their projects. There were even quite a few times where he was asked to do a _modelling_ job, which was quite a-ways away from a photography job; he’s got to blame his face for that. Those offers he rarely accepts and when he does it’s because he needs the money; in photography he prefers to take, rather than be taken, but he supposes if it’s food on the table, he’ll take whatever he can.

             So with the steady rise of following (where at one point it sharp-shooted when he started posting vlogs), Younghyun tried his best to keep his brand going. To keep his small name in the industry and hopefully one day make it just a bit bigger. But it wasn't the culmination of people liking him that he was after, but the opportunity to share what he had to the world. If every one of those ten thousand people gets a smile on their faces the moment he sees his works, then he's glad to keep on giving. 

             'Course he can't keep giving if he doesn't have anything to actually _give_. Which is why Younghyun, now sprawled face-down on his bed like a dead man, spent the last _two hours_ just organizing and rearranging all his unpacked luggage and disposing all that was needed to be disposed. In impartiality to his old man back. For the purpose of getting the nitty-gritties done first before he can get _any_ work done. Such is the life of an adult in the workforce.

             Most of those two hours was actually spent categorizing (and contemplating the whys with a very perplexed eyebrow of) _fifty-two_ bottles from Bath and Body Works, which ranged from body oils to charcoal masks to cooling mists to body scrubs and even medicated skin protectant—which made his very perplexed eyebrow into an _intensely_ perplexed eyebrow, wondering about the connotations of such.

             The person who actually gifted him this and practically forced him to bring them to the countryside was his seven-year roommate, who had been his friend ever since he was a kid. The guy was actually completely _convinced_ that the place he was moving into had people living off dirty toilet water. Which is stupid because if people lived off dirty toilet water here then they’d be dead. Also, they probably wouldn’t advertise it on TripAdvisor. This place was advertised on TripAdvisor.

             Just because it’s a rural area with not much opportunities for entertainment and a lack of technology doesn’t mean there isn’t a clean water source, roomie. Nor does it mean that it isn't place worth and able to live in. From what Younghyun has seen from Google Images and the bus trip here, the place is actually a very breathtaking sight: rice fields spreading far and wide, trees lining every inch that they could reach, small and medium traditionally-designed houses instead of the usual stacked apartments, and mountains covering the distance. 

             It’s still a bit barren now, since Winter has only started, but Younghyun can already see the colorful flowers blooming, and the goats and the sheep and the dogs and cats that often find themselves travelling all over (he noticed that when looking over the images that popped up; in every other picture, there was always an animal present). When he looked over the different choices, he found this one to contain the happiest memories; it seemed as if everyone loved being here, everyone who took pictures at least. And it seemed like the village people themselves felt the same way, as if there wouldn’t be any other place they’d rather stay.

             The thought of it sends a sense of peace in Younghyun’s mind, a sense of calm and relaxation. It’s something he’d never be able to experience with the busy-ness of the city. In the countryside, days are said to be longer, time said to go slower, and Younghyun would give to have more time in the world, more hours to live in the day. With nothing to worry him—no deadlines, or dead lines, or anything along those lines. Just him and the world. Nothing else.

             And his ten thousand followers, of course.

             Speaking of: he needs to send them an update.

             Younghyun lifts himself up from where he flopped down on his bed (courtesy of the tiredness induced by organizing fifty-two bottles of Bath and Body Works) and gets his phone from his pocket, immediately opening up one of the social media apps. He checks his hair, checks the lighting, and presses the button that sends him live, watching the screen go to front-cam mode.

             “Hey, guys!” Younghyun greets as soon as he sees enough people entering the live. “Sorry it’s been a while since I gave an update. Like I said the last time, I’ve been busy packing up my things and getting ready for the move, and it took _way_ longer than I expected. I was actually kind of getting worried because I know you guys are always worrying for me—a-ha, yes, I am alive, don’t worry—but I’m here now! Up and running. In a world cut-off from the rest of the universe—I’m just kidding; I’m in the countryside. ... _No_ , I’m not living off dirty toilet water—why does everyone always think that? And don’t worry, I got a Survival in the Wilderness Badge back in Toronto; I think I can handle having no washing machines.”

             Younghyun shakes his head at the rows of comments moving up the screen and sliding up alongside the bursts of hearts every now and then. A lot of their comments go along the lines of, “oh my god is it the third day of resurrection“, “boi you lookin fineeeee“, “hi my name is michelle from the philippines could you please say ‘mahal kita’“, “get free facial masks here NOW: bit.ly/2dgy“, and “glad to know youre doin great ^^“. It sends a smile to his face to see all these people so happy to see him, and so happy to know he’s doing well. Makes his heart envelope in something close to warmth, a soothing feeling that has his chest wrench a little bit. He has absolutely no idea what he'd do without his followers—especially those that stayed.

             “Thank you all for the kind messages. I’m actually in my new home right now, as you can see with this beautiful window sifting in the light of the bodacious su—oh, you want a room tour? Sure, why not? There’s not much to go on, though, since this room is actually pretty small and I didn’t really pack a lot of things. I’m not sure what I could even—oh, you know what? Why don’t I start with the _fifty-two_ bottles from Bath and Body Works, there’s a story to tell with that, I’m sure—”

             He starts off by showing his followers the different parts of his room, directing them in a circle and switching to the front and back cams when necessary and adding commentary: He introduces his mirror desk (which is filled with fifty-two bottles and nothing else); his cabinet; his work desk (where his wi-fi router is perched on); the barren whiteness of the walls (he's thinking of putting up some of the new photos he'll be taking of this place to make it less empty); the wooden floor featuring his apparently adorable feet according to a commenter; his comfy bed where he flops down twice; the shelves containing compilations and publications of previous works; and finally the window he's facing to let the natural light shine his face in all the right angles. The cabinet and work desk serve as his background.

             “And that’s about it!” he finishes, telling it to the front camera. “As you can see, not much really to go on: it’s mostly just furniture, and a few of my belongings placed on top of it. I’m actually not allowed to do any modifications to any of the rooms, so this is the most I can do. … Yeah, haha, like an apartment. I never knew I’d be moving into an actual _house_ , though—who knew so many things could change in just a couple of months?”

             That makes him look around once more, basking in the glory of his newfound place of residence. No—basking in the _peace_ of it. The _openness_ of it. That freeing feeling of not being tied up anymore. That feeling of floating in the air, arms spread wide. This room has four walls, but it feels like he’s on the open road. No—in an open _field_. And he loves it. Oh, he loves it.

             “Who would’ve expected that something like that would lead me to now, huh?” Younghyun asks, looking back at the comments with a smile on his face. They all sound worried, but he assures them by looking happy. Slowly, they turn more supportive. “Change really does change things. But it’s a good change, so far, I swear it. So far, I just really like it here. It’s been like three hours, but I really like it here. I don't think I'm gonna be leaving any time soon.”

             Younghyun keeps his smile as he reads over the flurry of comments that come after. Then, a single question pops out from all the rest.

             “'How are you holding up with what happened?'“ Younghyun reads, feeling a lump form in his throat. “Well—”

             Bzzt! Bzzt!

             Younghyun abruptly jerks his head to the direction of the doorway, surprised at the sudden buzzing of the buzzer. He actually blinks a little, wondering if he had misheard, but then the door buzzer _bzzt_!s again and Younghyun turns back to his phone.

             “I guess that's my cue, guys; we're gonna have to cut this short,” he tells them, feeling just as sad as their “nooo dont goooo“ comments. “But hey, don't worry, you'll be seeing a lot more from me soon enough, now that I'm all settled in my new abode. Expect new photos because I swear this place is breathtaking. Remember to stay healthy and happy always, alright, guys? And I'll try to be happy and healthy, too. Bye for now!”

             He ends the live with a wave of the hand and immediately drops his phone to his bed, running out of his room in favor of the front door. He fixes his hair a bit when he reaches it, hoping he doesn't look _too_ unkempt, and takes in a deep, deep breath. _One, two, three_. And opens the door.

             To be greeted with a scalding metal pot shoved right to his face.

             “AGH!” Younghyun yelps for the second time that day, reeling back just in time to not get a sick burn—like, an _actual_ sick burn. _First, random memory lanes and now floating metal pots? What is this village?_

             “Pil-ah, we’re supposed to be _welcoming_ the new neighbor, not driving them out.”

             The metal pot lowers itself with a huff, and Younghyun finds himself blinking at two new men who are standing next to each other, almost at about the same height. The slightly shorter is the one holding onto the metal pot (which means it _wasn’t_ a sentient being meant to haunt Younghyun for the rest of his days, thank god), and is currently now glaring up at the slightly taller one, whose hair is shaved into a buzzcut. Given the weather this time of the year, Younghyun wonders how he’s not freezing.

             “Jin-ah, everyone knows that soup is the best welcoming gift when you’ve just moved into the neighborhood!” the shorter man—supposedly “Pil-ah“—protests, almost in a whiny manner. “I’m doing what’s right for society.”

             The taller one—supposedly “Jin-ah“—just rolls his eyes at that, arms crossed. “If nearly burning the face of our new neighbor is your idea of doing right by society, then feel free to get kicked out of every single one of them.”

             “Um,” Younghyun finally speaks up, earning two looks from the both of them, “sorry, but who are you?”

             The shorter one suddenly beams at that, like sunshine in this cold, cold Winter. “Oh, sorry about that. I'm Park Wonpil! Twenty-five years old,” he introduces with a small bow, making the pot follow suit. “And this is Park Sungjin, who's twenty-six years old. He's my ex-boyfriend.”

             “ _Husband_ —husband. I'm his husband,” Sungjin interjects immediately, as if expecting it. “Sorry, he's been calling me that ever since he saw this post on the web. It's been two months.”

             “No worries. It's nice to meet you guys,” Younghyun says with a polite smile. “I'm Kang Younghyun, twenty-six years old. Are you my next-door neighbors?”

             “Close. We're your across-the- _street_ neighbors,” Wonpil says, gesturing to the house behind him with the pot. “We just got word that the newcomer was finally in town, so we made you a pot of soup to welcome you!” He brings the pot close to Younghyun again, though this time at a safer distance from his face, thankfully.

             “ _I_ made the pot of soup; he's just taking credit,” Sungjin says with a thumb pointed at his husband, though it seems that he finds it endearing.

             “Woah, thank you,” Younghyun says a bit surprised as he receives the pot (fortunately) by the mittens. As soon as he does, he immediately gets a whiff of maybe the most beautiful food aroma in the world, next to ramyeon and sushi. “It smells so good, wah—you didn't have to do this.”

             “Please, Pil-ah practically begged me to make you this with literally all of our best ingredients.” Sungjin shakes his head. “He values a complete stranger more than his own husband.”

             “No, I don't.”

             “Yes, you do.”

             “No, I don't.”

             “Yes, you do.”

             “No, I don't.”

             “No, you don't.”

             “Yes, I d—HEY!”

             Younghyun finds himself laughing at the two, finding their presence comforting. It's a bit weird, actually, to hear himself laugh like this… but it feels good. And nice. It feels good to feel nice.

             “Come on, why don't we go inside and maybe hang out?” he offers, making the two finally cease their light-hearted (and borderline flirty) arguing. “It's freezing out here, and I don't wanna turn this nice soup into a popsicle.”

             Wonpil practically radiates the sun up above at the offer, as if intent on melting the snow before they even start falling down from the sky. And Sungjin looks like he's always been the type of person to say, “I'll have what my husband is having.”

             “We'd love to!” Wonpil almost squeals and Younghyun welcomes the both of them over, finding even more reason to love this place than the reason why he left Seoul in the first place.

 

It's already sunset when Wonpil and Sungjin finally decide to leave, the time having passed by so quickly that none of them noticed it was already 8 o'clock. They spent the entire afternoon chatting about whatever, telling each other stories (apparently, Sungjin was the one who asked Wonpil out while Wonpil was the one who proposed), and just laughing the entirety of the way.

             The time they spent had Younghyun grinning wider than he's had in a while, the feeling of being so happy that it felt like it would never go away. Sungjin and Wonpil were just so friendly and fun to be around with that Younghyun actually found himself wishing they could hang out more, wishing for more opportunities like this in the future. Well—they _were_ only a street and a knock away from him; maybe Younghyun could make them something in return for the soup. He'd certainly love to.

             “Thank you for having us, Younghyun-hyung,” Wonpil says as he stands up, a bright, wide grin on his face. “We honestly had such a great time—when was the last time we had this much fun?” He turned to his husband at that.

             Sungjin hummed at that, looking up as if he was thinking about it. “Probably the second before we met Younghyun,” he says, “since every moment with you is the best one.”

             Wonpil puts a hand on his chest at that, a touched smile spreading across his face as Younghyun rolls his eyes, though not unsmiling. Sungjin is surprisingly cheesy, despite his appearance.

             “I'd like to thank you as well—and for the soup,” he says, standing up with them. “It was honestly so good—I wasn't surprised when you told me you were a chef.”

             Sungjin shrugs. “It was a special occasion. Been a while since someone decided to move into this house; everyone was practically buzzing to meet you.”

             Everyone, huh? Younghyun finds himself frowning a bit at that, thinking of how he got flocked the moment he got off the bus earlier that day. Was it really that big of a deal to finally get a new neighbor? It's been mentioned a couple of times. And even that man before said something about it.

             “By the way, take care of this house. We don’t usually let newcomers move into this one.”

             “Is it really that important?” Younghyun asks. “I mean, even if you haven't had any newcomers for a while, why is it such a big deal?”

             Wonpil hums, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “It's just such a rarity for someone to move here. This place isn't as advanced as others, rural or not, so not a lot of people choose it. And when they do, they're usually gone in a week. I was actually surprised to know that you were moving here, of all places, considering what most people have been saying. I guess you don't believe in all that stuff, huh?”

             Younghyun frowns again. “What stuff?”

             Wonpil and Sungjin react at the same time, as if a realization was slowly dawning onto them.

             “Ah...” they both say, slowly turning to each other. “That's why...”

             Younghyun glances at either of them, not knowing what's happening. “Why what?”

             Wonpil and Sungjin glance at each other hesitantly, as if not sure if they should say it or not.

             “You see, Younghyun-hyung... uh...” Wonpil starts, scratching his neck. “I mean, it's just rumors and frankly, it's impossible for such a thing to occur—”

             “People have been saying that this place is haunted,” Sungjin interjects. “For twenty-two years now.”

             A breath leaves Younghyun’s lips at that, as if pulled by those words. He feels his nerves shake his entire body, tiny tremors travelling across skin. And for some reason—

             For some reason, the living room feels cold.

             No. Cold _er_.

             “It was just a bunch of rumors made by a bunch of bored city-dwellers to get a kick out of this ‘outdated village from the time of my old hag’s old hat’,” Sungjin says with a shake of the head, crossing his arms. “It’s complete bull. Ghosts aren’t real—who on Earth were those guys kidding?”

             “Yeah, those people made a lot of posts about that online after they went out.” Wonpil frowns, then turns to Younghyun. “It’s a miracle you never saw a single one. You must have been lucky, huh, hyung?”

             “Y-y-yeah... I-I-I g-guess I was...” Younghyun says, trying for a smile.

             Wonpil and Sungjin share another look before turning to Younghyun.

            “You know,” Sungjin starts, “if you ever need help, or someone to hang out with, Pil-ah and I are always just a street away.”

             “It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out with someone new and nice as you,” Wonpil adds, “so we’d absolutely love it.”

             “Th-thanks, guys. W-will do.”

             Younghyun walks them to the door as they both bid him goodbye, taking steps across the dirt road dividing their home and his. He watches as Wonpil laughs at something Sungjin says, and watches as Sungjin places a kiss on Wonpil’s forehead, wrapping an arm around his torso. And normally, Younghyun would roll his eyes fondly at the both of them, finding them to be way too cheesy for a Winter like this.

             But all Younghyun can focus on is the heart pounding on the inside of his chest, as if there was a tiny little someone begging to be let out, yelling at him, screaming at him, “ _I’m here.”_

             He closes the door, and for some reason, it’s a lot louder than before.

             Creeeaaak.

             THUD.

             Slowly, Younghyun turns around, a sweat trickling down his forehead, his fingers shaking uncontrollably, his heart pound-pound- _pound_ ing—

             But there’s nothing but a house.

             A sigh of relief is pulled out from Younghyun’s lips and he puts a hand to his chest, immediately feeling ridiculous. God, what was he thinking? Of course there wouldn’t be any ghosts around here; like Sungjin said, ghosts aren’t real. Ghosts can’t be real, and Younghyun was just being the silly little paranoid person he always is.

             Younghyun shakes his head, moving on to get to bed. It’s been a long day, and he deserves some rest. There’s no reason to be worried. And no reason to be scared.

             Because there’s nothing

             and no _one_

             else

             in this house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, guess what, guess freaking what

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, fam! So, this is the final fic under my "Seasons" project--informally dubbed as "The Four Briwoon AUs"--which is a series consisting of four different and unconnected Briwoon AUs that each represent and is set in a certain season. And for our last one, we'll be having a Ghost AU _plus_ a Mystery AU fic entitled "See-through", set in and representing Winter! (Congratulations to [@fluffwoon](https://twitter.com/fluffwoon) for getting it right during our [guessing game on Twitter](https://twitter.com/raikayyylmao/status/1113400352122953728)!)
> 
> The idea for Seasons basically is that after posting all of the first chapters of all four AUs at once, readers can decide which AU they want to be finished _and_ posted first and [after a one-month voting period](https://twitter.com/raikayyylmao/status/1126094484519829504), the results showed that "See-Through" would be the **first** fic to be finished!
> 
> During the waiting period, I will still continue to post WSLY chapter updates, as well as some scattered fics so that it wouldn't be that too difficult of a wait ^^. As I continue to write the fic, it is possible that things from the original chapter posted could change, but rest assured that the main elements of the story are fixed and would only have minor changes, if ever. 
> 
> Each story under Seasons is a chaptered fic with a progressive plot, which is a complete divergence from my usual one-shots and episodic chapters. I wanted to be able to challenge myself to come up with more unique AUs and interesting plots and character dynamics so that I could better improve on my writing skills, as well as provide more varying content for the readers and basically the fandom as a whole! I'm always striving to get better at everything I do, and although I know I've still got a long way to go before I can _really_ call my works excellent, I hope that at the very least, you, as the reader, are able to learn something, make yourself think or reflect, and/or smile because of some of the things I've written. After all, that is my ultimate goal when it comes to these things ^^.
> 
> "Seasons" is a project I've been wanting to do for a long time now, and I hope that by the time it's finished, I've had provided and made stories that were worth the wait.
> 
> Thank you for reading this little thing of mine, and I hope you have a wonderful day!
> 
> twitter: [@raikayyylmao](https://twitter.com/raikayyylmao)  
> curiouscat: [@raikayyylmao](https://curiouscat.me/raikayyylmao)  
> hellopoetry: [@ruqiruqi](https://hellopoetry.com/ruqiruqi/)


End file.
